I didn't end up doing too much on my Saturday today. Actually I did quite a bit, but nothing so much productive as enjoyable. I think the Sabbath rest idea is so great, how often is it that weekends can get so busy we forget about the pattern of rest? Anyhow, was thinking about that today as I went for a walk. Mary wanted to come, but well, she's a car.
Went down to investigate that park near the end of my street. In fact it's a reserve, which means that nobody can build on it. It has a pond, a lake (of sorts), and grass. Lots of grass. So much in fact, that it's called a lawn. I wandered about on this lawn for quite a few hours, not doing anything in particular, but praying, singing, or listening to the birds. That's when I saw it: a sparrow. Not a flock of sparrows, but one singular, tiny sparrow in the middle of a whole flock of pigeons feeding on bread crumbs the people were throwing.
I still think it should be called Pigeon Falls.
Anyhow, and anyway - while I'm at it, anywhile - the people who were about were mostly having picnics, and I found out that there is a long tradition in Sparrow Falls of heading to the park grounds to eat. All these people - since I don't know them, let's call them anywho - were eating their anywhat, and I thought to myself, 'what a wonderful picture this would make!' Or something to that effect. There was just something so simply serene and happy in the atmosphere that I quite forgot myself. In fact, I forgot to take any pictures for the blog. There were swans, and ducks, and trees (you get that in a reserve), but they're all kind of besides the point of what I'm writing, that I was just so simply happy in being there. The kids were chasing their parents (or the parents were chasing their kids, which is more usual), the people were throwing bread to the ducks, I was walking, the sun was shining. Does it matter I forgot to take a picture? Maybe I should have for my readers.
And now as I'm writing it, I'm wondering to myself, 'what if I did take pictures? Wouldn't that have taken away from the wonderful time I had there?' We seem so anxious to take pictures, as if somehow the enjoyment will last in a polaroid, and then we take our eyes off simply enjoying the what, or who we are with. It's like we become the camera. Actually I'm quite glad to forget photos, sometimes living them is better.